Apple Pie
by nuasariaa
Summary: Empty. Not a single, juicy, green apple was to be found at the bottom of the barrel, namely HIS barrel. Oh, the culprit would pay dearly…and he would make sure of it. B/E


A/N: Thank you so much for the encouraging reviews, beloved readers! Even before I began _Compensation_ , I knew the Barbossabeth ship— _dinghy,_ excuse me—was pretty dead. But after watching AWE again after almost 10 years, I noticed the significant improvement in their relationship since CotBP and fell in love with the pairing. Since then, I'd been working on this piece in which our (slightly OOC) heroine gets in the way between our favorite Pirate Lord and his precious apples. I've always imagined Hector to have a softer, sweeter side to him that only someone like Lizzie would have the privilege of seeing.

Disclaimer: I own only the events of this ficlet...everything and everyone else belongs to Disney.

Apple Pie

"Perfect."

Eight large, green apples (1) lay at the bottom of the barrel. Elizabeth reached down and gathered them into her arms before making her way to the small galley of the ship. She hummed a jolly tune to herself as she prepared the ingredients needed for the pie.

Not long after mixing the flour, eggs, sugar, and butter into a bowl, a knock interrupted her thoughtful silence. Two familiar faces peeked from behind the door and Elizabeth motioned for them to enter. Pintel and Ragetti made a beeline for her workspace, curiously inspecting what she had already accomplished.

"Wha's cookin', poppet?" Pintel asked as his eyes landed on the sugar and the flour. He had an inkling that she would be making a delectable pastry of some sort.

"Pie," Elizabeth answered as she daintily scratched the tip of her nose with a finger, causing a bit of flour to smudge onto it. "Be a dear and put more coal into the fire, Pint." A giddy smile plastered itself on the shorter pirate's face upon hearing the nickname she had given him.

"Wha' kinda pie's it gonna be?" asked Ragetti as he helped his uncle shovel coal into the warming oven. Elizabeth pulled one of the apples out of the sack she had placed them in and held it up for the two to see. She had expected to see delighted expressions on their faces, but the only reaction she got was the nervous bobbing of Ragetti's prominent Adam's apple.

"Are those wha' I think they are?" Pintel asked, eyes wide and full of fear.

Ragetti's eyes were even wider than his uncle's, so much so that Elizabeth became concerned that his wooden eye was going to pop out and into oven flames. "The cap'n isn't gonna be happy about this," Ragetti muttered as he nervously eyed the green fruit.

Her bewilderment at their unexpected responses quickly turned into frustration and she planted her fists on her hips. "And why _won't_ he be happy? It's apple pie, for God's sake!"

Just as the two were about to open their mouths to give her a collective answer, a gunshot rang through the air on the deck. Pintel and Ragetti exchanged knowing looks with each other before rushing up to the deck, Elizabeth not far behind.

 **-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-**

" _ **WHICH ONE O' YE BLOOMIN' COCKROACHES TOOK THE LAST O' ME APPLES?!"**_ bellowed the captain. Not a single crew member dared to move a muscle, in fear of being the target of the captain's fury. Elizabeth knew she ought to tell him, but after seeing his terrifying display of rage, she decided that it would probably be less disastrous for her to wait until he regained his composure.

Barbossa wanted an answer, and he wanted it _now._ In the heat of the moment, he pulled his pistol out of its holster and cocked it. The end of the barrel was pointed in the direction of the nearest crew member who happened to be Jonathan, the young cabin boy. The action elicited a gasp from Elizabeth and it was at that moment that she knew it was time for her to speak up. She ran to where the petrified boy stood and placed herself in front of him, shielding him from the sight of the barrel.

"Don't hurt him! He did nothing wrong!" she exclaimed.

"Outta me way, missy. Wouldn't wanna end up hurtin' that pretty face o' yers," he said with barely restrained anger. With Elizabeth in such close proximity to him, Barbossa was able to notice the small smudge of white on her nose. Pushing away the distracting thought, he continued, "A good scare ought to make 'em 'fess up." He grabbed her bicep to pull her to the side.

"Barbossa, no! It wasn't any of them…it was me," murmured Elizabeth. Several gasps came from behind her and she was suddenly made very aware of the consequences that she might have to face.

Her apprehensive chocolate eyes met his intense cerulean gaze.

" _Ye_?" Barbossa questioned, disbelief lacing his voice. For a moment, Elizabeth swore she saw his eyes soften ever so slightly before hardening in anger. Before she could explain that she did not necessarily 'take' the apples for consumption as he believed her to have done, he grabbed her elbow with a vice-like grip and pulled her even closer. "Me cabin, Elizabeth. _Now,_ " he commanded with an unusually low voice.

Barbossa _never_ called her by her given name. He had always referred to as either "lass" or "missy." She was really done for this time. Knowing better than to argue with him, she complied.

 **-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-**

Hearing Barbossa's much heavier footsteps behind hers on their way to his cabin created a sense of dread within her as she contemplated what might happen there. Although Elizabeth wanted to explain the situation to him, she feared that a single word from her might trigger his temper once again. Her mind subconsciously made a list of every worst-case scenario it could possibly come up with.

Once inside, Barbossa closed the door none too gently, making the young woman before him jump at the sound. He watched as she began to distance herself from him, fear evident in her eyes. The captain let out a tired sigh as he ran a hand down his face. He took a step towards her and noticed that she immediately took two steps back.

It made him wince, knowing that he was the cause of her distress. The poor girl needed space, so he went to the other end of the room where his desk was and sat down. His anger slowly began to dissipate and it was several moments before he finally spoke. "Apologies, lass. 'Tweren't me intention to frighten ye like that," Barbossa said, noticing that she now had her eyes glued to the floor and was fidgeting with her fingers nervously. "'Twas wrong o' me to have behaved the way I did with ye over somethin' so petty. Got a bit too possessive…over some bloody fruits."

"Them apples be found only on a large island south o' Singapore(2)," he explained, attempting to take on a lighter, more casual tone that he thought might ease her out of the apprehensive state she was in. "'Twas Cap'n Sao Feng that introduced 'em to me years ago. He'd given 'em as a gift in exchange fer me services in helpin' to keep those French toads outta his waters."

Unsure of the captain's sudden shift in mood, Elizabeth lifted her eyes to meet his. Her anxiety lessened significantly when she saw no sign of anger in his clear blue eyes. Deciding that she would be in no immediate harm, Elizabeth sat down on the edge of his bed and waited for him to continue his story.

Relieved that she did not seem to harbor anymore feelings of unease, Barbossa continued where he had left off. "Since then, green apples've been me favorite food, so much so that I be refusin' to eat red or golden ones! A pirate turnin' down gold fer green…ironic, innit?"

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards at the statement. "Seems like there _are_ things in life that are sweeter than gold, captain," Elizabeth said, unaware of the ambiguity of her statement.

"Aye. That be true, lass," he chuckled.

' _Nay, there be somethin'_ else _sweeter than those apples…and it be sittin' right on yer bed,'_ his inner voice quipped, referring to the very person. Pushing aside the witty comment, Barbossa skillfully steered the conversation back to the apples. "Tasted heavenly, didn't they?"

"You see, I didn't actually eat the apples. They're still in the kitchen since I had been planning to use them for pie."

Barbossa eyes widened in both relief and understanding. "Ah, so that explains where ye got the white smear on yer nose."

Heat spread across Elizabeth's face upon realizing that she had had a flour smudge on her face this whole time. Using the sleeve of her shirt, she furiously wiped at her nose. The childlike action made the captain quirk a brow in amusement as he smirked slightly. Elizabeth seemed to revert back to her apprehensive state for she did not meet his eyes, choosing instead to pick at a hangnail. "I'm sorry for not telling you this earlier. You were so angry that I was too afraid to say anything."

"Aye, and fer that, I be sorry too," Barbossa confessed. He stood up and made his way to his bed where she was sitting. Seating himself next to her, he tentatively put an arm around her shoulders before murmuring, "Ye know I'd never hurt ye, love."

Hearing the endearment made Elizabeth's heart flutter as she hesitantly nestled against him, warmed by both his embrace and his last statement.

"Now, what be the fate o' them apples?" Barbossa asked after they had lapsed into a contended silence. "Ye still plan on turnin' 'em into a pie?"

Elizabeth pulled away from him just enough so she could look into the azure eyes she had grown to adore. "I've got news for you, captain," she said, feeling brave enough to take on a teasing tone. "I won't be using them to make a pie."

Barbossa's brows furrowed in confusion, disappointment, then annoyance (in that order). Just as he was about to open his mouth to ask why, Elizabeth placed a finger on his lips and shushed him.

"I shall use them to make _two_ pies," she whispered playfully as she untangled herself from his arm. She stood up and was about to head for the door, when Barbossa grabbed her arm and pulled her back down onto his lap.

"Just fer clarification, bothpies'll be _exclusively_ mine, right?" he growled in a roguish manner, which made Elizabeth let out a lighthearted laugh.

"Of course. If that is what you wish, Captain."

"Good, 'cause I'll have ye know...this cap'n isn't known fer sharin' his treasure," Barbossa said in a husky voice. Elizabeth had the notion that it wasn't just the apples he was referring to.

 **-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-._.-**

(1): Eight is my (probably very off) guesstimate of how many large apples it would take to make two medium-sized pies.

(2): Hopefully, my geographic description of Australia is accurate. The same country in which Granny Smith apples originated just happens to be the same country that Geoffrey Rush is from. Coincidental, innit?


End file.
